Thorns Beneath The Roses
by Voice of the Shadow Realm
Summary: Their relationship had moved from awkward teens staring at the playboy centerfolds hidden beneath Matt’s mattress, to goading the other into picking up strangers in a bar, and onto casual lovers themselves.


**Authors Note:**

_A lot of regular readers for Tramp's seemed to be under the impression that it was headed into the yaoi realms, it wasn't. But it did get me thinking however. I haven't written any yaoi lemons (I have written vague hinty yaoi but not in DN realms) and I kinda want to cross it off my list. So here is what is my first venture into the realms of boy/boy smut. Only a short note cos I'm writing this in the middle of a busy work week and I wanted to post something while I buy more time for the next chapter of Tramps. _

**Disclaimer:**

Not my characters… just the pervy thoughts are mine.

**Warning:**

This is a mature rated yaoi fic. Mature meaning it is not aimed at those under the legal age of consent in whatever country you happen to reside in, and yaoi meaning that the couple involved are both of the male gender. If either of these two definitions causes you any concern or apprehension then I advise you click the back button as this is not a fic for you. I accept constructive criticism and I accept advice. I do not accept flames of disgust for the material I have chosen to write and any left will be deleted immediately and rendered inconsequential.

**Thorns Beneath The Roses.**

First impressions. The human race puts far too much stock in this, the building up a mental profile of a person within thirty seconds of meeting them, and not enough in actually sitting and discussing facts with them in order of figuring out each as an individual puzzle. Instead, all are pre-allocated yes/no boxes, programmed into the mind set of humanities bigots. Factory manufactured and unimpressive drones. Copies of one so called 'ideal' being, passing judgment on those who are different. Too narrow-minded for today's society… and totally unreliable.

Matt had decided upon this fact years ago, back in his childhood. If he had conformed to this Neanderthalic way of thinking then his transition through puberty, from boy to man would have been extremely dull and little more than a simple breaking and straining of his voice. And this would have all been curtosey of his boyhood companion and best friend.

Mello.

Blond haired, blue eyed and slim to the point of bordering on being under-weight. Smooth curve to his chin, high cheekbones and a small almost button nose. Cute. In all aspects of the word. If Matt had been naïve enough and gone by his first impressions alone of the child, then he would have pegged Mello, who was at that harrowing point of childhood where it is difficult to distinguish temperaments and the child has no intention of assisting discovery, as a timid and nervous little boy desperately seeking reassurance and guidance.

At seven years old, Mello had been small and slight for his age, shoulder length blond hair tucking neatly under at the end in a natural curling bob, childish innocence shining in those wide and appealing eyes. A doll. A beautiful doll that would have had potential parents clamoring to snap him up, clamoring to soothe away the hurt and grief and loss. Typical adoption fodder… if this had been a typical orphanage.

But Matt knew better.

Yes his friend had the appearance of a needy and sweet-natured little waif, but appearances are deceptive. Take the time to look past the golden locks and the neutral posture, to look deeper into those eyes then the sharp gleam of cool intelligence clouding those precious orbs would be obvious. The docile and almost half smile, more a wry twist of scarcely contained contempt and dismissal. But few ever took such care and time to observe him. They saw what they wanted. What they expected. And what they expected to see in a seven year old orphaned boy was not deception. He had learned to deceive and hide his true self beneath his half smiles and glazed expressions and reveled in the results, people cooing at him like he were a six week old puppy. Buying into the broken doll routine without question.

Matt hadn't.

Matt had never swallowed such crap. Mello was an orphan like him. Mello was just as damaged and emotionally scarred as any other child in the Institution. He just hid it better. But the signs were there. Always there, lurking, if you knew where to look and what to find.

Matt did. Matt knew how to read people. He had done so since he was able to toddle, and then spent years harnessing this skill. He watched without notice, always looking busy and distracted. He learned to remain un-noticed in an empty room, never too talkative, never too rude. Don't draw in attention and you'll survive another night. Perhaps that was why he and Mello clicked. Mello was attention grabbing, beautiful and wild and haunting. Matt was dull, meek and average. Mello was the actor, the star and Matt was the background and the support character that didn't buy into the others acts. Never had as a child and wouldn't now as a man.

That's what they were now, men. Grown young men, alone in the world again, surviving. Always alone… Always surviving.

Matt glanced up from the glowing LCD screen of his hand-held without moving his head, eyes rolling over to the tall and wiry man that that doll had grown into; still broken, perhaps more so now than he had been as a child, engrossed in papers that had been supplied by one of Near's agents. A female agent. Mello had defined people skills too, though his tactics were less than noble.

They had survived twenty years on this earth, thirteen of which where they had needed no-one else for companionship. Their relationship had moved from awkward teens staring at the playboy centerfolds hidden beneath Matt's mattress, to goading the other into picking up strangers in a bar, and onto casual lovers themselves. Pansexual, it was known as. Romantic feelings felt for the person and not the gender, there was no gay, straight, or bi to them. Matt didn't see Mello as a man in the sexual sense but as a soul mate. One he could trust wholly and completely. And that was why the papers in the man's hand made him want to vomit.

"Why do you do that?"

The blonde's head lifted slowly from the paragraph he had been absorbed in, the blue of his iris's alive with that same intelligence he had as a child all those years ago in Wammy's House. The same intelligence that had, once upon a time, earned him the right to succeed the L title.

"Hmm?"

"Why do it?" Matt repeated.

"Do what exactly?"

A sigh. "Deceive people. Use them." Matt kept his chin down and lids lowered, peering through his lashes. "That woman. You're playing her. Against Near. For information. It's selfish and cruel."

Mello scoffed and lowered his chin, eyes returning to the papers in his hands. "I'm hardly using her. More exchanging services. I want information and she wants… well, you know what she wants."

Something bitter burned at the back of Matt's throat. He knew exactly what Mello exchanged in this perverted little game of 'shop keep' and the very notion that the blond man did so willingly sickened him. "Hardly an exchange." Matt snarled at his console, his thumbs striking a little too sharply, making the gamer wince briefly. "Whoring yourself to peek over Near's shoulder at his answers…"

Mello's chin jerked up, and Matt felt the cold rush of a glacial glare sweep over him, settling atop of his mussed up red hair. "You make it sound so childish and petty."

"That's because it is, Mel. Near has something you don't and, like a child spotting another in the playground with a shiny new toy, you want it too." Matt cocked his head slightly and glowered through one wholly visible eye.

Mello's head swung, eyes slitting to blue slivers, and Matt swore that he felt the temperatures around him plummet as a shiver crept along the nape of his neck, like a wayward droplet of water, eliciting goose flesh as it trailed along his spine.

"I don't want that albino brat's answers. And I have no interest in his toys. I just need to catch him up in the race again. I lost my lead recovering from my injuries."

It was Matt's turn to snort then, he paused mid game-play just long enough to lift his head and glare fully at the blond's face. "And whose fault is that? You blew yourself sky-high!"

"I would've been fine if old man Yagami hadn't blocked the door…"

"Yagami had been shot. Forgive the guy for dropping like a sack of shit. If you had kept your cool and had that lackey of yours slam the door instead of grabbing the notebook, then you would have escaped that blast. But no, you were too damned focused on grabbing that fucking notebook. To hell with everything else."

Mello's face tightened into a scowl, pulling awkwardly at the dead and thickened shin around his scarred left eye. "He had my name Matt. What else was I supposed to do? Trust that Kira wasn't listening in? Trust that no-one else would pass on the information. I _had _to take it. My survival…"

Matt jumped in again, cutting Mello off. "Yes, I know that Mel's, but if you'd slammed that door you would have been safe inside with it. Taken it at your leisure and strolled out the back way. Yagami was as good as dead anyway. But, instead you had to flee with your tail between your legs like a kicked dog, lay low and lick your wounds and your pride in hiding and leave the book and your name to fate. Do you even know what happened to the book?"

Mello scowled and simply turned up his nose, ignoring his partner and refused to either confirm or deny his knowledge of the book, instead his eyes found and settled on a crack running up the length of the wall and deemed that more worthy of his attention that Matt. Matt chuffed to himself.

"Thought not."

That brought the blond head whipping around again, lip curling. "What's this all about Matt? Something's crawled up your ass and set up camp ever since I got back from meeting with Hal…" His voice trailed off and the curling lip stretched into a sneer. "Is that it? Hal? Hal's bothering you?"

Matt cringed, he'd felt his shoulders tighten but he'd hoped that the motion had escaped the blond's notice. But it hadn't. Now he was trapped with three ways that he could play this hand. Deny everything. Say he didn't care. Confirm it and release his frustrations for once and for all…

… He chose the third option and simply ignored it. Both the question and the person posing it, frowning instead at the game in his hands in mock concentration and praying that Mello would drop the subject and leave off.

Unlikely. The very notion of Mello not chasing a detail once he'd received a sniff of a trail was laughable. But Matt was nothing if not an optimist… A selective optimist.

In an instant, Mello had crossed the room, snatched the device from Matt's grasp in one quick hand, his other gripping the back couch cushion at Matt's shoulder and leaned his face into Matt's line of vision. He straddled the gamer. The concept of personal boundaries, much like patience and consideration, were foreign to the blond, that or he simply didn't believe that they applied to him. Matt turned his head into his shoulder; he didn't want to see the spark of triumph in those eyes. Didn't want to see the mocking smirk.

"You're jealous of her." Mello concluded. His mind sharp as always. "You don't like that I'm just as easily turned on by her as I am by you."

Matt screwed his eyes shut and tried to mentally block up his ears to the taunting singsong lilt in Mello's voice. He imagined those lips, not as the instruments of torment as they were now used, but as the conveyer of a sweet rapture that only the two of them had shared. In his mind, Matt conjured the pants and the moans that spilled from those lips only he had ever heard. He could still smell the sweat and musk. Still taste the copper tang when feveret kisses grew a little too rough and demanding. Fingers clawed. Teeth bit…

He used these thoughts now, drowning out the bitter words and cruel taunts rolling from a mouth that could, in all honesty, be of better use elsewhere right now. Making him accept that his jealousy and fears were unfounded. Used them to block out and chase away the mental images of Mello and this woman, though beautiful and strong and easily ten years their senior, joined in throes of frenzied and misguided lust. He screwed his eyes tighter and flinched when slim fingers caught his chin in a grip that was firm and scarcely shy of painful.

After a moment or two of resistance, Matt allowed the hand to manipulate his direction, cracking an eye; his sight was completely dominated by Mello's lips.

They were moving but Matt's attention to the words had long since vanished, his desperation to escape Mello's taunts drove him deeper into lust fuelled memories.

Writhing bodies. Building tightness. Pressure and release…

His reaction was spontaneous and expected. Denim began to constrict and chafe him in the darndest of places, head snapping up and neck muscles twinging in protest at the sharp movement.

Mello's words faltered and his eyes widened fractionally and Matt allowed himself only a brief moment to drink in Mello's surprise before his mouth claimed that of the other mans. Mello's back stiffened, head held rigid as Matt's tilted for a better angle and his lips began to move. Gentle at first, pliant, until the hand twisted in golden strands and crushed them together harder. Teeth gnawing on the blond's bottom lip, sharp and stinging, only to be soothed away with the gentle sweep of the tongue following the delicate slope and shape of the full lips.

Frustrated growls vibrated deep in the back of Matt's throat, his attempts to reclaim Mello as his own were thwarted by said mans stubborn refusal to comply to the advances. Twisting the tangled fist deeper into flaxen locks, Matt pulled and finally Mello's lips yielded and parted. Tongues delved and danced, teeth clashed, a fight of dominance between two who knew their roles. A show. Mello would concede defeat long before Matt would tire of this game. His fingers, more skilled than Mello's, would play him and tease. Years of obsessive gaming building up muscle and dexterity that he could never have hoped to achieve himself.

They skipped and teased, stroked and pulled over the leather that was fast becoming too constrictive and tight, painfully pinning and holding down the thickening organ against the inside of his right thigh, the snug fit preventing it from rising as nature had intended. And Matt, the selfish bastard, would allow him to suffer unless Mello could wrest the control from him.

Hand drifting, Mello found the front of Matt's jeans; fingers skimming the heated straining confined within, and caught the zipper. If Matt heard the metallic whirr then he paid it no heed, not until Mello's hand worked its way into his boxers and wrapping around his swollen member. Mello scooted his hips back and lowered his straddle until he was almost sitting across Matt's knees. The gamer's shoulders stiffened against the couch, a low and drawn out moan vibrated against Mello's mouth as the blond's hand stroked his length free from cotton and denim alike, pumping slowly, torturously slow, his grip firm. And then he'd loosen his grasp and stroke faster, alternating between the two until Matt's hips rocked, driving himself up into Mello's palm.

Matt broke the kiss then. 'Hngh…Mello… haaah… Stop!"

Mello smirked, swiping his tongue along Matt's lower lip and gave the hard organ a particularly firm squeeze making his lids flicker over the fever-bright emeralds. 'So soon Matty? You disappoint me." His hand moved lower…

Matt's body jerked and snapped up like a whip. His hand shooting out, grabbing and twisting Mello's arm up behind him as he spun them around, slamming Mello's front up against the back cushion. Wedging his knees inside those of Mello's, Matt worked himself closer until his erection slipped along the rear seam of those tight leather pants.

"Caught?" Matt husked against the blond's ear.

Mello snarled and twisted against Matt's hold, only to feel the hacker apply a firmer pressure to his twisted arm. Not enough to hurt but enough to prevent Mello from wanting to risk moving too much. As his captive relaxed against the cushions again, Matt slid his hips forwards, erect member pressing along the sensitive path between the bottom of his rear and sac. Mello bit off a shuddering moan.

"Caught?" Matt asked again, and again Mello fought. Matt simply lifted his body from Mello and let him thrash until he pressed on the arm again, always careful not to hurt the fiery blond as he did so. This time when Mello calmed, Matt reached his hand around and slowly plucked at the corded fly of Mello's pants. He struggled slightly as he forced his hand into the tight leather, found his prize and carefully eased him free.

All the fight left Mello then, his head dropped and he pressed his face into the couch, muffling his desperate moans. A low and wanton growl rumbled against the pulse point in his throat as Matt nuzzled his face into his flesh, stroking the weeping manhood in his grasp in time to his own gentle rocking.

When Mello still refused to voice his moans, the mouth rumbled and teased the shell of his ear. "Tch. Stubborn bastard." Teeth grazed over his nape and a thumb slipped over the slick and reddened tip, stroking in tiny circles.

A cry caught in Mello's throat, and he tried his damnedest not to voice it, but the first note had passed his lips before he thought to stop it and he felt the lips on his nape pull back into a smirk.

The hand abandoned him and the hips shifted backwards. Confusion peaked in Mello's lust fogged mind until he felt the hand skimming his hips as they peeled his leathers halfway down his thighs. He shifted as again the hand abandoned contact with him, but only briefly. When it returned a moistened finger brushed along the cleft of his buttocks, gently probing, making his back arc. Muscles clenched involuntarily against the intrusion but the low moan breathed into the couch contradicted the response his body gave and as Matt worked his second moistened finger in alongside the first, Mello could feel the swollen head of Matt's Member bumping against him as the rest of Matt's hand spreading pre-cum over his length as a natural lubricant.

Mello squirmed. Anticipation broiling in his belly, eager growls and frustrated snarls spilling from his lips.

'Fuck me Matt, draw it out any longer and it won't last long."

Matt chuckled darkly. "Close are we Mel? I'm disappointed." He taunted, finally confident to release his grip on the blond's twisted arm and knowing that he'd not try to wriggle away now. Matt reached and cupped Mello's chin, tilting his head around over his shoulder as much as he dared without hurting him. Lips moving against the side of his mouth. "You want me Mel's? Want me like she wants you?"

A snarl. "Insecure fucker. She's just business. I don't give a rat's ass what she- ahhngh!"

Matt gave no warning, no gentle and slow slide into him. The fingers went and Matt took their place in one swift movement. Chin still tilted over his shoulder, Mello watched as green eyes slitted in mounting pleasure, mouth crushing against his as best he could as he drew back until just his head remained inside. Matt slide in to the hilt again, faster this time, hips rolling as he did so, grinding until he found and hit a spot that made his uke whimper. Mello's head flopped over the cushions, fingers clawing at the newly christened couch as Matt withdrew and pushed in again. His rolls hitting that same spot.

First impressions were always untrustworthy. Drawn in by the glitz and glamour of one as flashy and showy as Mello and you easily over-looked the one who was strong and honest and wonderfully perfect as Matt. Something so simple and yet so effective in keeping his rose safe and protected from the world. The thorns beneath the roses.

Mello moaned again, this time he happily let the sound escape his lips. And hot on its heels. "Fucker."

Matt pressed his face into the side of Mello's throat, his thrusts speeding as he knew they'd both pushed the game too far for either to last long, and uttered a purring chuckle. 'I am, aren't I?"

* * *

**End Author's Note.**

_Wow. That was a loooooong piece for me. Lol. Not quite as long as yours in the end Raven lol but I tried. Oh the smut. I know I skimped on the sex, but foreplay is so much more fun… and whoever said that yaoi couldn't be foreplay heavy?_

_Not too sure on the whole smut writing stuff, this is by far the longest and most detailed piece of eroticism that I have ever written and to be honest I doubt I'll hurry into it again. Too scary and too draining. I can now fully appreciate what I put Raven through with my yaoi challenge after her first venture and I can honestly say … I bow before your bravery hon._

_I hope that it was satisfactory for you who read it and I look forward to the reviews that _

_you decide to offer._


End file.
